Marcus cleared his throat, interrupting the intimate battle she’d intended to wage.
Darius glared at her. “Did you like being in that statue? Maybe I should just put you back where I found you. Let Lilith deal with you.”
It could not be! Could it?
Shaila stiffened. Destiny could not have brought her all this way into the future to drop her at the feet of that witch!
“What do you mean…let Lilith deal with me? Who is this Lilith?”
“Apparently, she’s one of your Anunnaki friends.” His words dripped with malice. “Maybe you should go back and help her command that little demon army of hers.”
“Lilith is not my
friend
.” She completely understood why someone could hate Lilith. She wondered if he hated all of her kind this way. She never cared what others thought of her before…human or otherwise. With Lilith nearby, she desperately cared about finding the child and her missing knife. “She is my enemy.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her close. “Good. I left my grandfather behind because of you. You’d better be worth it.”
Wind whipped across the Charles River, finally carrying the first fall crispness with it. Heavy gray clouds spewed inland, driven by a nor’easter supposedly brewing over the Grand Banks. Darius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the briny air, drawing strength from it.
He trusted his grandfather. But the lady of the flaming ego better live up to her reputation, because he wasn’t going to endure her kind of aggravation for nothing. Thankfully, Marcus had agreed to stay and keep an eye on Shaila, while Darius responded in person to Lilith’s invitation for a little chat.
Turning away from the river, he faced the front entrance of the Troy Estate. Fear and rage swirled inside him like a great ocean storm. Sneaking in was easy. Entering the massive estate invited felt like a monumental task. His heart pounded with each knock on the door.
A young blond man with unusually gray skin opened the door and pointed Darius toward the gallery. For the second time today, he stepped into Lilith Troy’s private gallery.
Taking a more detailed observation of the antique collection, Darius found one room dedicated to Mark Antony. His likeness was everywhere: in portraits, on busts. A life-sized statue of the Roman general stood defiantly in the center of the room. Even on a short platform, the alabaster figure only came up to about Darius’ eyes. He studied the features carved thousands of years ago. Something about the chin didn’t instill a feeling of power. Opportunist, possibly. Politician, definitely.
Darius moved silently through the next room, an eerie feeling shivering down his spine. Ancient weapons hung everywhere: long spatha swords, pila, thrusting spears, and even a few items that looked like instruments of torture. Another display showcased a stunning Roman gladius. The dagger looked wickedly authentic, its hilt encrusted with gold and bone.
A plain sword hung on the wall above the dagger. It looked out of place in this room full of gilded and bejeweled weapons. The steel blade had long ago oxidized to a silver blue haze. The hilt might have been made of a precious metal, but he couldn’t tell which one. It was wrapped tightly with brown leather straps which looked fairly new.
The security camera silently tracked him. He shouldn’t touch anything, but he reached out anyway, feeling the cold timeworn edges. The ancient weapon felt warm and strong. A smile curved his lips. The blade was still amazingly sharp, leaving a tiny cut on the tip of his forefinger. He put pressure on the nick for a few moments until the small blood droplets stopped oozing.
Focusing again on the hilt, Darius wondered if the shape of it resembled the outline of a winged disk. A ruby could lie underneath the leather wrapping. It looked a lot like the sword in the photo Mr. Artie had given them. It seemed too modest to be a sword of power, but even Indiana Jones recognized that the power of the Grail was not in precious metals or jewels.
“Farvadin.” Darius whispered the word into the quiet room. Well, what the hell did he expect? Did he think it would glow or rise up in the air or something? Was it really that crazy? His grandfather had searched his whole life for a statue that ended up only a few miles away.
That
was crazy.
Darius hesitated to enter the next room. From the doorway, he quietly relived the moment he’d first seen Shaila. Like a fierce sentinel, she’d stood entombed in golden splendor for eternity. Now, all that remained was a dusty granite platform.
She’d said she was Anunnaki. If he hadn’t already heard the legends of the alien race from his grandfather, he would have known of them through the ancient Summerian artifacts he’d studied in the past. The word literally meant
those who from the heavens came.
His life would be a lot easier if they had just stayed out there in the heavens.
“Good afternoon,
little
Darius.”
The room turned dark, as pure hatred clouded his vision. The voice echoed across the room from the shadow of the staircase. It was deeper now, but still recognizable as the one that haunted his darkest nightmares from childhood. A nightmare he could never seem to outgrow. Darius reined in his anger and tried to quell the lurching in his stomach.
“As you can see, Therion,” Darius felt his teeth grind on each word, “I’m not so little anymore.”
Damn.
He was already being sucked into Therion’s head games. Time to regain the upper hand. Darius hooked his thumb over his belt, the silver buckle resting coolly against his palm. His fingers ached to free the two throwing knives hidden inside it and bury them deep in Therion’s dark eyes. Instead, he strode across the room straight toward his enemy.
Therion was every bit as tall and muscular as rumors had said. Darius smiled inwardly, thinking that fate had apparently evened the score in that department. He now stood eye-to-eye with his enemy. What Therion had in bulk and brawn, Darius was certain he could make up for in agility in outmaneuvering the big man.
“You’re looking pretty fit for a
retired
colonel.” He looked like He-Man in a Hugo Boss. “I love what you’ve done with your hair. All those cute golden spikes. The messy look is still in. Maybe you could go into acting, now that you have all this free time.”
“Still the same snide little wimp.” Therion sneered, revealing perfect teeth framed by that perfect face. “Careful, your jealousy is showing. Sorry for your loss.” Therion’s eyes trailed slowly across Darius’ head.
When he was growing up on the streets, nobody ever told him to cut his hair. His long ponytail had turned into a perfect tool for Therion’s gang to implement pain. After moving in with Papa Shadi, he’d shaved it all off as a break with his past. It never grew back.
He squashed an impulse to rub Papa Shadi’s medallion for strength. Instead, he turned away from Therion dismissively, feigning interest in the solar boat display. He could feel the big man’s eyes watching him.
“I want her back. Now!” Even with a deep voice, Therion sounded like a petulant child.
Darius turned to face his accuser, noting the ill-concealed disgust in those black eyes. “Her?”
“You know damn well.” Therion closed the space between them in seconds. “Bring me back my statue. She’s mine!”
Before Therion could get too close, Darius grabbed the big man by the throat with one hand, holding him at arm’s length. He held his other palm up, ready to strike if necessary. He felt blood pulsing furiously underneath Therion’s skin. Gritting his teeth with the effort, Darius nearly roared from the rush of adrenaline. “You would do well to keep your distance.”
Light glittered off of something around Therion’s neck. Darius reached for it, drawing it out from under the silk shirt. At the end of a gold box chain hung a blue lapis lazuli bead. His stomach lurched, sick with the sudden onslaught of memories. He could almost feel the bruises again from the beating he’d suffered from Therion’s gang over twenty years ago.
Therion’s throat vibrated with laughter. “I hope you like it. I wore today just for you, in honor of your visit.”
Darius tightened his grip. Distracted by the necklace, he wasn’t prepared when the strange gray doorman suddenly tackled him to the floor.
“What is it with these things?” He fanned the air in front of his nose. “What the hell do you feed your pets, Therion?”
“You’re still on my playground, Darius.”
He mentally dared Therion to come a little bit closer, but the man just smirked from a distance.
Oh the hell with it!
Scrambling from underneath the demon, Darius flipped it into the boat display. Dusty, splintered planks collapsed around it. A second demon grunted loudly as it launched itself from the shadows across the room. Flicking a quick release button on the belt buckle, Darius slipped a small throwing knife into his palm. Spinning, he used the momentum to toss the shiny blade at this newest attacker. It hummed through the air and sliced easily into the demon’s forehead.
“And I see you still let others do your dirty work for you.” The demon writhed on the floor, a silent scream frozen on its lips. Bursting into a blue flame, it slowly disappeared. Darius aimed a second knife right between Therion’s eyes. In his other hand, he held up the handwritten note. “Would that include your mother?”
Finally, he’d struck a nerve. Black eyes flared at him with angry defiance. Even the fancy suit couldn’t conceal the flexing of muscles as Therion’s body tensed. Darius lowered the knife, but kept his body loose and ready.
“You know, Therion, every bully has a weakness. What’s yours?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Hmmm. You know I’ll find it. That’s what I do. I find things…and I always find what I’m looking for.”
* * *
“Well, well, well. What a divine example of human masculinity.” Lilith Troy stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase, posed as seductively as she did on every poster of her around the world.
Innocent
did not seem to be the look she was striving for. Black silk crisscrossed over her chest to hang sleekly over her shoulders. More black silk clung to her hips and flared down to the floor. A gold leaf diadem pushed her hair back away from her face, but she’d pulled half of the blonde waves forward over her body. The ends curled around her bare midriff.
Darius suddenly felt like prey, locked by an intense tawny gaze. He’d heard that she had that effect on men. He’d discounted it…until now. She looked divine and dangerous.
He couldn’t help but think of the statue of Mark Antony in the other room. Men rarely stood a chance when faced with a woman who understood the power of her own beauty. He knew instantly that Lilith Troy would be exactly that type of woman. A type he would be wise to avoid.
Feeling Therion move in his direction, Darius re-aimed his knife. He would not be caught off guard again.
“Enough!” A display case next to Therion shattered. Tiny pieces of glass skittered across the bare floor. The big man halted mid-step and turned his glare toward his mother.
That was the second time Darius watched glass explode along with Lilith’s temper. “You must go through a lot of glass.” Therion momentarily gave him a
you-have-no-idea look
, before moving slowly toward the golden beauty.
“Thank you for welcoming our guest.” Lilith kissed her son on the cheek, but her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Leave us. You have things to do.” She moved past him dismissively. Darius did not miss the contempt that momentarily passed across Therion’s face before he left the room.
“It was you.” Lilith nodded her head toward the empty platform. “Your energy is unmistakable to me now. Such angry, masculine energy, Darius Alexander.” Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath as if savoring the aroma of a fine wine.
He was surprised to see his first knife floating in the air, gliding gently back to him from across the room. She was demonstrating more of her power. He slid both knives back into his belt buckle.
The sound of them coldly clicking back into place seemed to snap her out of her reverie. “Come with me.”
“Why?” He wasn’t going any deeper into this house until he knew what was going on.
“My dear, it was not a request.” A warm pressure surrounded his throat, invisibly squeezing his airway. There was nothing he could grab to relieve the pressure, so he waited for her to release him. “We have business to discuss.”
She climbed the staircase without looking back, swaying her hips in a manner to draw maximum attention. Slowly, the pressure around his neck subsided. Rubbing his throat, Darius cautiously followed her up the staircase to the residence level.
Blood red was the prevailing color in Lilith’s sitting room. Beyond that, the most notable feature was a huge fireplace, large enough for him to stand in.
“Thank you for coming. Please make yourself comfortable.” She arranged herself across a crimson sofa, accented with brown and gold pillows. She patted an empty space next to hers.
“As you said, it was not a request.” Darius ignored the invitation and pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. As he tossed it on the coffee table, the photo she’d sent him of his grandfather slid halfway out. Darius hoped his disgust showed plainly on his face. “Your message was quite clear.”
“Sit. Sit down. Gods, but you really are delicious looking, especially when you’re angry.” She leisurely surveyed every inch of his body. “I would enjoy bending you to my will, but I did promise my son that I would not seduce you…today.”
Darius was not in a hurry to test Lilith’s resolve to keep that promise. He sat across from her, keeping the coffee table between them. The demon doorman appeared again, but this time he brought a tray of drinks. The demon’s hands trembled, causing the drinks to slosh over the edge of the glasses. After dropping the tray on the table, the gray man nearly sprinted out of the room.
“Why haven’t we met before, Darius? We both operate in the darker side of antiquities.”
“I’m not a social butterfly. Where’s my grandfather?”
“I think most collectors are afraid of you.” She eyed him over the rim of her wine glass. “Of your reputation, which is quite impressive. One of Boston’s finest young pickpockets grows up to become one of the best antiquities trackers in the world.”